'Twas weeks before Christmas, and the hash was to begin
Almost every hasher was drinking, except for the Nasty Gym ;
The beer checks were prelaid by the Rose Garden with beer ,
In hopes that Sir Mudd Butt soon would lay trail to beer near;

The hashers were nestled in the bar with beer in their head,
With visions of Phucking cold weather and warm Shnapps instead;
And Granny Panties in his 'Long Johns', and a Virgin in skirt,
Had just settled down for a long winter's hashing circle jerk,

When out on the streets there arose such a clatter,
The hashers searched to see what was the matter.
Away to the first check we wanted to hold,
And then were reminded is was really phuckin cold.

The flour on the breast of the newly-laid trail
Made the run to Burnside a beer breath frozen contrail,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a flimsy beer check , shnapps and some beer,

With a little hot chocolate, and whipped creme for tops,
We knew in a moment it must it was Peppermint Shnapps.
More rapid than Tiger would the hashers they came,
And he Gym Nasty, he himself would sing the refrain.

'Now, Skinny Bitch now, and you Mr Flaming Fart
Oh, HASH ON! oh FREEZE ON! now simply depart
To the top of West Portland to the top of the hill
Now hash away! hash away! dash away until!......

Five minutes after hare leaves and wicked flour does fly,
When they meet with a false trail , please don't ask why,
So down down to the hashers who ran true trail so few,
and the true end only Gym Nasty truly knew

And then, in a checking, we smelled in plain sight.
We ran to the bar on this dark wintry night.
As we drank in our mugs, and was turning around,
Down Downs to the hares with nary a sound.

and then

He sprang to from our beers forgetting our whistle,
We drank our last beer like the down of a thistle.
But I heard Nasty Gym exclaim, while he drank out of sight,
"May the hash get a piece AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"

On On
Big